


Breaking Down The Walls

by el3anorrigby



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/pseuds/el3anorrigby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya hates Napoleon for invading his personal space. Or does he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Down The Walls

It was a mundane afternoon. No mission from UNCLE for over a week had Illya bored out of his mind. He was in their safe house alone, sitting in the lounge doing absolutely nothing. Gaby had gone out shopping because she said she’d earned it and Solo, well he didn’t exactly know where Solo was. He was tempted to check his tracker but was too lazy to get off the sofa.

He had challenged himself to a game of chess earlier because throwing that challenge to either Solo or Gaby would be fruitless, he always ended up winning and they weren’t around anyway, but he’d gotten so bored he’d given up midway. Realising there was nothing else to do, Illya ended up watching the television instead. There was nothing really interesting on but he figured it was better than doing nothing. 

He’d engrossed himself watching a sporting documentary when suddenly he felt a pair of arms sliding around his shoulders from behind, encircling his neck, rather too affectionately for his liking. He tensed to some extent at the unannounced contact, stiffening straightaway as his breath caught briefly at his throat. He knew who the pair of arms belonged to. He turned his head slightly to look at the person who has now rested his chin comfortably at the crook of his neck.

“Solo…what are you doing?” he asked with a hint of irritation in his voice. But Solo made no indication that he was about to let go of his grip from Illya and merely leaned in more to whisper in his ear, “Why the hell are you watching this? You’re not even into sports. Are you that bored without me, Peril?” 

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Illya said, choosing to ignore Solo’s teasing instead. He was not amused that Solo’s arms were still around him. He pried Solo’s hands away from around him before turning to look at his partner’s bemused face. “I wish you would stop doing that,” he muttered low in his voice before turning off the television and abruptly getting up from his seat. He failed to notice the rather disappointed look on Solo’s face. 

“Aww, you’re rather testy today? No wait, correction. You, are always testy,” Solo said as he straightened himself, fully aware he’d managed to annoy Illya.

Illya on the other hand continued to ignore him and has now made his way to the lounge’s mini bar, contemplating on whether he should have a drink. Perhaps the liquor will cure his boredom or make him forget Solo’s annoying presence with him. Suddenly he felt Solo’s hand on his shoulder. At the mere touch of his hand, Solo could see the Russian tensing up again. 

“Hey, it’s just me. What’s wrong, Peril?” he asked. Solo’s voice was soft and gentle and Illya couldn’t help but feel guilty for acting the way he did. But this was Solo and Illya knew letting his guard down, especially when he’s around him, was not an option.

“It is nothing,” he replied, trying his best to keep his emotions in check.

He didn’t want Solo to know what he was feeling, not now, not yet, probably not ever. Abandoning his decision to have that drink, Illya walked past Solo and made his way towards the lounge area again, flopping himself down on the sofa. He hoped Solo would have gotten the message that he was not in the mood for one of his silly and annoying jokes but obviously he was not on the same wavelength as he was today. He felt Solo taking a seat beside him and without even glancing at him, Illya merely continued to stare blankly at an imaginary spot across the room. 

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Solo decided enough was enough as the silence was driving him insane.

“Illya?”

Illya merely let out a muffled ‘What?’ and that unenthusiastic reply from him had the desired effect, sending a message straight to Solo that he was in no mood for any conversation that afternoon. Solo shrugged his shoulders before muttering, “Doesn’t matter,” his voice trailing off and turned his head away. He could continue to antagonise Illya but Solo knew better than to ruffle the feathers of this particular grumpy Russian, especially when he was in one of his ‘don’t talk or touch me or I will kill you if you try’ moods. Solo then proceeded to grab a magazine on the table, flipping the pages randomly, not really knowing what he was looking or reading at. Illya could detect the dejected tone in Solo’s voice and the pang of guilt hit him even harder this time.

“I’m sorry, Cowboy. What is it that you want to talk about?” he started apologetically, hoping that some of the tension that had built up will eventually disappear. Inwardly, he cursed himself for getting too soft on Solo.

“Cowboy?” he tried again, with the softest tone he could muster and that made Solo look up from the magazine that he was seemingly reading. He threw the magazine on the table, before turning his body fully to face him, crossing his hands across his chest at the same time. For a moment he didn’t say a word, letting Illya feel the tension notch a little higher. When he felt the Russian couldn’t take the silence any longer, Solo finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, Peril.”

Illya had to blink a few times to understand that Solo was actually apologising to him. 

“What for? You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I was invading your personal space and you didn’t like it.”

Solo’s words could not be anymore true but his statement was not entirely correct either. The problem with Solo invading Illya’s personal space was that Illya enjoyed it, he enjoyed it a little bit too much, more than he probably should. And that feeling he felt whenever his arm was draped around his shoulders or the seemingly innocent hugs and kisses that came his way (Solo was certainly good at that) and despite making it clear for Solo to stop, that infuriating man continued to do what he does best. And it drove Illya up the wall.

“Illya, you have a problem with me getting close to you,” Solo continued.

That direct statement hit a nerve in Illya and he immediately averted his eyes from looking into Solo’s, cursing his luck that Solo had decided to talk about the one thing that he desperately wanted to avoid. He needed to get away from this, and fast. 

“It’s not like that,” he muttered under his breath and tried to get up but Solo tugged at his arm, pulling him down again, his grip on his arm sending shockwaves down his spine. “Then what is it?” he asked again, his gaze at him were like knives piercing his heart. 

“I don’t have a problem with you, Cowboy…it’s just that…” he stuttered, before letting out a long sigh and continuing hesitantly, “I do not like people invading my personal space.” 

And Illya winced at the lie that came out from his mouth, but he had to lie. There was no way in hell he was going to admit to Solo that he liked him. In fact, he did not understand the way he was feeling for the American. He was having a hard time enough trying to think of anyone else that made him feel the way Solo did when they touched him. And he couldn’t. No one else made him feel this way. No one close. Not even Gaby. And all he wanted now was to get away from the uncomfortable feeling that he got when Solo was too close.

Illya could see Solo’s mind working overtime, trying to figure out the actual thing that was actually wreaking havoc in Illya’s mind. Fuck, this was not good because this will lead to a full blown argument, maybe a punch or two, and Illya didn’t want it to come to that. Because there’d been too many incidents of that and it was the last thing Illya wanted.

But he was not able to speak, could not say anything to rebuff his words and all he could do was bow his head and regarded his shaky hands as if it was the most interesting thing in the room right now.

“Hold on a minute. Let me get this straight. Hmm, you say you don’t have a problem with me but you don’t like me invading your personal space. Just like I’d suspected. But if you hated it so much you should have just told me, Peril and I would have stopped.”

"I did tell you, Cowboy. You just don't listen." 

"Oh," was what Solo could muster for a reply.

With a small grin, he then continued, “Then you do hate me. You hate me, don’t you?”

Those words managed to snap Illya’s attention.

“No that’s not it, Cowboy!” he exclaimed rather loudly, much to Solo’s consternation. “It is more complicated than that.”

“For fuck’s sake, Illya. Please enlighten me? We’ve been partners for almost a year now and I’ve tried my best to warm my way but no, there is just no breaking the walls of Illya Kuryakin. Right?”

Illya was speechless at his partner’s outburst. He’d never seen Solo quite as agitated as he was at that very moment.

“Okay, let’s just forget it. I guess this is all just a mistake on my part,” Solo began in a defeated voice and he was on his way out from the room when Illya realised he had to smooth the situation between them. 

“Solo, wait. You are right, to some extent,” he began and Solo turned his head to face him with an almost hurt look on his face. But Illya’s next few words helped to ease some of the hurt, almost.

“I don’t know what it is, Cowboy. I, I honestly don’t really know what it is. But it has nothing to do with me not liking you. But you do infuriate me, I admit. But I do not hate you. I don’t. I mean, you’re my partner and we work together and we are supposed to like each other but…”

“But what?” Solo enquired, watching him intently, almost to a point that he wanted to smile at Illya’s stuttering but he waited for him to answer his question. “Is there an end to that sentence soon, Peril?”

“I don’t know what it is that I feel…when I’m with you. I cannot explain it.”

For the first time, Illya was being as honest as he could and he hoped to god that he was not freaking Solo out. Illya let his eyes locked with him, and felt his heart rate escalate rapidly, something that was common whenever he was left with him for far too long. And for once the expression on Solo’s face was unreadable. 

Solo on the other hand was trying to comprehend what Illya meant. His words had left him reeling. Because he felt things for Illya, feelings that were foreign when he first felt it (because he didn’t do those feelings) and the more he tried to figure out what it was, the more he realised that he was in love with the crazy Russian. He had felt it the first time they were paired together and it had spiralled dangerously to another level. And he had been resigned to that fact for quite sometime now. He had been too forward today and it had clearly affected Illya. But he never expected him to come out and said what was on his mind. 

“Look, Solo. I mean, Napoleon,” Illya began and took the initiative to walk towards Solo and now had marginally closed the gap between them. The both of them now stood rooted at the door, eyes locking with each other. Solo felt the heat rising up his cheeks and his stomach tightening into knots, as if he was on the verge of something big. 

“Solo, I am feeling rather strange and I don’t know what it is when I’m with you…” but before he could finish what he wanted to say, Solo’s lips were upon him, sending every nerve in his body into a frenzy. Illya was too stunned to move, as the lightest touch of Solo’s warm lips against his sent electricity all the way down his spine. And he was also slow to react when Solo pulled back. It had been the briefest of kisses but the after effects would not subside anytime soon. And all he could do was to stare back into those hazy blue eyes, into the soul of the man who had just turned his world spinning off its wheel. 

“That’s what I’ve been wanting to do, Illya, but I know that we’re partners and we’re agents and I shouldn’t and that I can’t…”

And Solo’s breathless ramblings were enough to bring Illya back from his stupor.

“Fuck you, Cowboy, you can’t just kiss me like that and then say that you can’t…it’s not the Russian way.” 

And this time it was his lips that came crashing down on Solo’s. He slid a hand around his waist, pulling him close and Solo let his eyes fall shut to the unbelievable feeling that swept through his body. He tightened his grip on Illya and pulled him closer and Illya willingly parted his lips and let him slid his tongue inside. Both men were now stood pressed up against each other and Illya backed him towards the door, pinning him against it and deepened the kiss instantaneously. They kissed furiously and let their tongues massaged each other for a long time before letting go to gasp for air. Solo still held on to Illya, as tight as he could, but now a small smile was playing on his lips. They simply stared each other for what seemed like an eternity and finally Solo gathered enough of his senses to form coherent words.

“Illya that was…holy fuck!”

Illya only let out a small chuckle and caressed Solo’s cheeks with his hand, letting it slid around his neck, pulling him closer and leaned his forehead against his. 

“That profanity, I take it you like the kiss, yes?” 

Solo laughed. Illya could be this phenomenal force when he’s all rage and angry but the man he’s holding in his arms was the complete opposite of that and he couldn't believe he’d just exchanged one of the hottest kisses he had ever experienced with the Russian. 

“Does this mean it’s alright for me to invade your personal space from now on?” Solo asked with a smirk. He was searching for something in those warm brown eyes that were causing havoc in his brain. Despite the hint of tease in his voice, Solo was dead serious and Illya realised there could be no turning back now. And Illya knew what Solo wanted to hear and this time he had no problem saying it. His reply was equally serious.

“Cowboy, it means that I…I want you.”

“You want me, Illya?”

Damn, hearing Solo call him Illya instead of Peril this time was doing crazy things to his insides. He kissed him again, harder this time and when they stopped, Illya half whispered the words that made Solo melt.

“I want you to invade my personal space, Cowboy, I want you…and I think I’m falling for you, Napoleon Solo…”

Solo smiled and pressed a soft lingering kiss on his cheek. 

“Anybody could’ve walked in on us just now, Illya. Perhaps Waverly, perhaps a shocked Gaby. But to hell with all that, it was all worth it. You’re worth it, Illya Kuryakin.”


End file.
